


White Lillies

by VenomQuill



Series: Dragon Age II [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dragon Age II Quest - All That Remains Spoilers, F/M, Spoilers, Technically other characters are mentioned, but they're just mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24691801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: "Well, it's not a good story unless the hero dies." -Varric Tethras
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke
Series: Dragon Age II [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794661
Kudos: 4





	White Lillies

**Author's Note:**

> Find it on dA: http://fav.me/ddz9wj7

It had all been a blur. One moment Hawke was in small block of Lowtown, killing demons that had slain Ser Emeric. The killer was paranoid, and ready to strike. Then she was at home, her greeting being her uncle Gamlen yelling at Sandal. There was a foreboding sense of… wrongness in Gamlen’s voice. He was worried and he was showing it, something Hawke didn’t know was possible. There was a blood trail in Lowtown where they found Leandra’s trail to Gamlen’s house had veered off. Hawke’s heartbeat sped up, skipping each time she found another smear of blood. Anders had of course come to her aid, as had Fenris and Isabella, three people whom she trusted over all others. She loved Captain Aveline, she did, but… but if it wasn’t for her slowness, her guards would have found the killer sooner.

Then, they found her. Leandra, a Frankenstein’s monster of murdered women draped in a wedding dress, under complete control of the madman that had been plaguing the streets for too long. The demons he summoned and withered bodies he raised proved quite the challenge. More than once, Hawke ducked out of fatal blows and scrambled to help her friends. She could help them, using the healing skills she’d learned both on her own and from Anders. But when the dust settled, not even he could help her tortured mother.

Leandra’s skin had been cool to the touch. Hawke caught the woman as she, as steady on her feet as a newborn fawn, attempted to reach her daughter, her only living child. Hawke lowered her to the ground, lowering herself to sit on her ankles. As Hawke moved her arm to lay over her abdomen, she felt the weakness of the woman’s heartbeat.

“There’s nothing I can do.” Anders’ voice, calm but heavy with hesitance and regret, sounded behind her. “His magic was keeping her alive.”

“I knew you would come,” Leandra admitted, her voice oddly strong.

Hawke smiled, a humorless feature she’d come to adopt in grief or fear. “You know me. I always save the day.”

“Shh…” Leandra breathed. Her daughter ceased to speak. “Don’t fret, darling. That man would have kept me trapped in here. But now, I’m free. I get to see Carver and Bethany again… and your father. But you’ll be here all alone.”

Maker, she could feel a dagger sink deep into her chest, twisting itself to rend her flesh and scrape her ribs in only the way a demon could imagine. “I’ll be fine, Mother,” she forced herself to say, her voice somehow level. Still, she could not summon the strength to keep her head up.

“My little girl has become so strong,” Leandra whispered, her foggy blue eyes staring up at Hawke with a fondness Hawke didn’t deserve. “I love you. You’ve always made me so proud.” One last long, slow breath escaped her lungs. Leandra’s muscles relaxed and her head lolled back.

Hawke heard footsteps behind herself but couldn’t summon the will to react. Instead, she tightened her grip on the woman’s mutilated carcass and brought her as close as she could. There was no taking her, however. Where would she go? No, it was the guard that would take her body, prepare it to be burned.

Something happened and she was back home, sitting before the fireplace in her library. Gamlen came in at one point, asking about her. But what could she say? Her mother was gone and there was no use telling Gamlen why. Hawke let Carver down, even after she promised to keep Leandra safe. Gamlen had summoned some righteous anger, snapping at her for her inadequacy and failure. But realization caught up to him, and the anger was lost.

Moonlight spilled through the windows bare of proper curtains. She huddled in her room, stuck on her bed. She couldn’t make herself lay down, but now she couldn’t get up. This was her life now, she supposed.

A pair of footsteps padded up to her door. “I know nothing I say will change it.” Anders was back. It made sense; he loved her, too. “I just… I’m sorry.” Hawke’s icy blue gaze stayed on her lap. She didn’t see the man approach. “You were lucky to have known her for as long as you did. When the pain fades, that’s what will matter.”

Hawke looked up, finally meeting his amber brown gaze. Maker, she loved the color of his eyes. Like honey spilled on a wooden table. So, unlike her own, blue as merciless ice. She couldn’t hold his gaze for long and instead glared at her lap as a sudden anger rose in her, escaping from the open wounds and torn scars in her heart. “A mage did this to her,” Hawke growled. “Maybe we are a danger to everyone around us.”

“He was a madman. That’s what made him do this. Not magic,” Anders countered. She found herself surprised, skeptical even, when she could not hear a high note of indignation. His voice was as soft and level as it had been for a while. The same tone her own father used when she screwed something up and hurt herself. Anders did have some similarities to Malcolm.

He sat beside her, the blanket bowing under his weight a little more than her own, gravity pulling her slightly to the side. “I know you’re looking for someone to be angry at. If it helps, go ahead and take it out on me.”

Hawke glared at him. But she couldn’t hold the look. “No, I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She rubbed her eyes and her gaze fell. “It’s just… I’m sorry. I can’t–ugh!” She let out a broken yell of frustration. “Why? Maker, what did I do? I tried taking Father’s place, I tried helping, but none of it mattered! None of it. Bethany, Carver, now Mother… why can’t I just take my role seriously? Why do I have to screw everything up?”

“Hawke, it’s not your fault…”

“How?” she countered sharply. “Bethany died because she was defending Mother. That was my job, she couldn’t take on that thing! She was barely older than a girl, she was my little sister! A-and Mother begged me not to take Carver along. But I did anyway. I didn’t just take my seventy sovereigns from the odd jobs I’d done and stayed at home. But Carver would have gone out anyway because he was willful and desperate to prove himself. I-I promised him, Anders. I promised him that I would make sure Mother was safe. Why did I say that if I couldn’t even look after my own siblings?” Her voice cracked and she balled her hands into fists so tight her knuckles paled. “Because I deluded myself into thinking I could. I’m nothing like Father. I shouldn’t have tried to be. He wouldn’t have let this happen.”

A short silence followed her ramble, fluctuating between spite and defeat and grief. Finally, the man beside her said, “You know you couldn’t control the Blight. You did what you could. You’re hurt now, but eventually the pain will fade.”

“I can’t. I can’t take it,” she admitted with a shrug. “I-I know I have no other family to lose. Maker knows Gamlen’s going to be around a while. Ha! I will be, too. I can get myself out of danger, I always do.” Her voice cracked and she rubbed her eyes.

A loud, long whine sounded beside them. Ser Barver crept up to her and lay his wizened head on her shoes. He looked up at her with round brown eyes. She could see the intelligence in his gaze, as well as the grief. Hawke ran her hand over his head, which had started to go white in the muzzle and around his eyes. “You’re a good old man, Ser Barver. Thank you for sticking around.”

Ser Barver barked and wagged his little tail. He looked up at the pillows on her bed.

“But you’re still not allowed on the bed.”

Ser Barver let out a heartbroken cry-whine.

Hawke thought for a moment. “…it _has_ been a while. And you’ve learned your lesson…”

He cocked his head a little.

“But there’s still no room for you. Sorry, Ser Barver.”

The mabari sighed and rested his head on her feet.

Hawke took a deep breath. “He certainly tries. He could manipulate people like you wouldn’t _believe._ Never tried his tricks on Father, though. Probably because Father was immune to the puppy eyes. Did I ever tell you how Ser Barver got his name?”

Anders shook his head. “No, I don’t think you did.”

Hawke chuckled and gave the mabari one last pat on the head. “Do you want to hear the story?”

“Sure.”

She thought for a moment. “Oh, where to start… well, about eleven years ago, Father took us out to see a litter of puppies that were weaned and already partially trained. They were adorable. Well, I grew pretty fond of this boy here and him to me. So, he’s the one we brought home. Carver was a little disappointed Ser Barver didn’t imprint on him I think. So, he was pestering me, and I got mad at him and said ‘You bark more than the dog! And he’s a barker!’ Which was true, since Barver was very loud.”

Ser Barver let out a tired bark. Hawke couldn’t help a chuckle. “Yes, like that. So, so then Father looks back at us and says ‘So he’s a little _Barver_ , is he?’ Maker, the look on Carver’s face was priceless. I’d never heard so many noises of disapproval at the same time in my life. It was glorious. So, I decided that his name would be Barver. When he finished training, we started calling him ‘Ser Barver.’ …you’re one old dog, huh, Ser Barver? Almost twelve years old.”

Ser Barver huffed, his eyes closed. His paws and nose twitched in the deep of sleep. _Good night, sweet prince. Come back in the morning, if you can._

**Author's Note:**

> Umph. Righty-o! We got more death because I'm a masochist.
> 
> Leandra's death always struck me. Like, it's weird. You never meet their father, only the apparition of his memory in a DLC. You don't really get to know Bethany/Carver before they get demolished by an ogre. Then that surviving twin you keep close for a little over a year before something catastrophic happens to them. Six years later, Leandra dies. It was a big shock, honestly. I didn't think they would kill her off, despite the red herrings being thrown about since _Act 1._ It is nuts. A lot of red herrings become blatantly obvious after you discover what they were hinting about.
> 
> Anyway, I thought I'd leave this here. Marian Hawke, known for her witty humor and overwhelming desire to help people while being strangely paranoid about weird things. Although she _is_ known for her wit and sarcasm, it's more or less a coping mechanism. She's been known to charm a riled would-be aggressor, but at the same breath provoke a fight simply on accident. When she's being cautious or paranoid about something, it's probably because there are too many red flags for her to see the object in question. This is especially obvious in favors where the real plan behind them is vague or the person outright says "Trust me on this, I can't tell you. But please help." She doesn't ever allow herself to cry in front of others. At first, it was because she felt her grief was over things that didn't matter or deserve tears. After her father passed, she had to stay strong for her siblings and especially her mother. But now...
> 
> She was a genuinely fun character to mess with, so I might throw in some of the happier times. See which ones stick, you know. All I have at the moment is this angst, a backstory, and one super dumb, silly story that will probably be this length that I don't even want to write. But! If I can write _"All My Life Dreams Are Coming True Right Now. My Brother. My Best Friend."_ I can write that. Probably.


End file.
